Political Bedmates
by Helena L
Summary: Aedan and Anora's wedding night, from my fic 'A Political Marriage'. Currently a one-shot, but may be updated with other scenes in the future.


"So, tell me," he said softly. "How may I serve my queen?"

Anora hesitated. There were things she'd only ever read of… that she'd occasionally suggested to Cailan, only for him to smile awkwardly and change the subject. Things, she suspected, that he was quite happy to do with a mistress, but not with his wife and childhood companion. But would Aedan be any different?

She straightened up. "Kneel," she commanded him, her voice slightly breathier than she'd intended.

A slow grin spread across his face, and she saw that he'd understood. He moved closer to her and slowly sank to one knee, kissing his way down from the hollow of her breasts to her stomach and gradually lower. "Does this please you, your Majesty?"

"Yes." She had trouble keeping her voice steady as he moved his head lower to kiss her inner thighs, grazing the skin with his teeth and slightly tickling her with his beard. She could feel his heated breath on the sensitive spot between her legs, then suddenly the warmth and roughness of his tongue, drawing a soft cry from her lips. Quickly she threaded her fingers into his dark hair to keep him where he was.

His mouth continued to tease her, gently nibbling and sucking in a way she'd imagined but never thought to experience, and as the pleasure grew to a peak she felt his fingers slide inside her. The dual stimulation was almost too much, and she bucked away from him with an involuntary gasp, but his other arm had snaked around her hips and held her firmly in place.

Liquid heat flooded through her, radiating out from her belly to her thighs. Her legs felt suddenly weak, and if he hadn't been holding her so tightly, pressing her against the bed, they might have buckled under her. The moment he released her, she flopped back onto the bed with a breathy sigh.

With barely a moment's hesitation, Aedan lifted her into his arms and settled her back against the pillows. His touch was gentle, but she could sense the coiled tension in his body and realised he was holding back for her sake, rather than his own. He paused to ensure that she was comfortable and then slowly entered her, shifting position slightly until he found an angle that made her moan and dig her fingers into his back.

She twined her arms around his neck and closed her eyes, letting conscious thought give way to sensation: the softness of the pillows and coverlet beneath her, the hard press of his mouth against hers, that delightful sense of friction and fullness as he began to move inside her. Each thrust rubbed deliciously against her sensitive inner muscles, sparking tiny, exquisite sensations of pleasure that made her gasp. Instinctively she found herself moving in time with him, trying to match his rhythm in order to deepen the sensation, until the waves of pleasure built to an unbearable crescendo and she cried out, the sound muffled against his lips.

She felt almost as if she were floating, lost to all sense of time. Aedan's grunts and her own faint whimpers seemed far away somehow. She didn't want it to stop, yet by the time the sensations began to recede, she felt limp with exhaustion.

It took her a moment to realise that Aedan hadn't finished yet. Before she could react he suddenly shifted position so that she was directly beneath him, pinned to the bed by his heavy bulk. His thrusts grew quicker and harder, stimulating her over-sensitised body to a pitch that was almost painful. Just when she thought she could bear no more, a deep groan escaped him and she felt him shudder, then gradually relax on top of her.

She pushed against his chest and he withdrew from her with a reluctant sigh, rolling onto his back and pulling her on top of him. Free of his weight, she drew in long, deep gulps of air, resting her head against his shoulder. "Sorry," he mumbled into her hair. "I didn't mean to be rough with you, I just couldn't..."

Anora murmured something indistinct in reply; she'd already gathered that there was a price to be paid for bedding Aedan. He pressed his lips gently to a tender spot on her neck, murmuring endearments in between kisses, and she felt herself drift into a state of sleepy contentment. But then he whispered something that sounded like "Ana", and she froze as if he'd punched her in the stomach.

"Don't call me that!" He raised his head, his brow furrowed in confusion. "That... that was Cailan's name for me."

Aedan drew breath sharply. "Forgive me."

"You couldn't have known." But the mood was broken. Anora wriggled out of his grasp and rolled onto her side, sliding her arms around his neck to show that she wasn't offended. They lay there in silence for some time, each lost in their own thoughts.

After a little while, Aedan got up to wash his hands and face, while Anora took the opportunity to visit the privy. Her thigh muscles were already starting to ache, and stung when she touched them; cold water helped only a little. Aedan saw her wince as she emerged into the bedchamber, and his brows lifted. "Sore?" he asked gently.

She nodded, grimacing. "One moment." He went to the chair where he'd left his belongings, and fumbled around in a pouch attached to his belt, finally producing a small vial that looked like it contained a potion or poultice. "Wynne's," he explained, showing her the pungent-smelling ointment inside. "It's meant to soothe minor wounds, but Morr- well, let's just say I found that it served other purposes just as well. Here, let me show you."

"Perhaps we ought to order a year's supply in advance," she said drily, settling back onto the bed so that he could apply the ointment. She couldn't suppress a hiss of pain as he smeared it over her thighs, but he was right about its effectiveness; the stinging sensation receded very quickly. After rubbing in the last few drops, Aedan pulled her into his arms once more and they lay back against the pillows.

"It will get easier," he promised, and she nodded, hoping only that she would have the stamina to keep up with Aedan's demands. Bound in a friendly yet unexciting marriage, Anora had always viewed sex as something of a distraction – pleasant, at times, but by no means essential. Her new husband, she suspected, was the kind of man who could no more go without it for long periods than he could manage without eating or breathing.

"So," he said at last. "What do you plan to do, now that you're queen? What do you dream of?"

"My dreams?" She closed her eyes for a moment, thinking. "If I could have anything I wished, you mean? I want to make Ferelden a truly great nation, one to rival Antiva and Orlais." Her eyes snapped open in her eagerness. "We have craftsmen and scholars and architects here as fine as any in the world, so why should we be known as the poor man of Thedas? I would like to see Denerim grow to a centre of knowledge and culture, like Val Royeaux. A grand cathedral, a university…"

She trailed off as Aedan reached out to finger her cheek. "I didn't realise you cared so much about these things."

"Why else do you think I wished to be queen? So that I can eat from golden plates and watch people bow and scrape to me all day long?" She shook her head impatiently. "And you, husband? What will you do now that you are a prince?"

"Well, I plan to start by rebuilding the army," he said promptly. "Scholars and cathedrals are all very well, but they won't protect us when hordes of darkspawn are battering down our gates. Certainly the garrison at Fort Drakon needs to be completely overhauled – more competent guards, fewer torture chambers."

"An excellent idea," she agreed.

"Then, of course, there's the Grey Wardens. I intend to reform the Fereldan contingent into a serious fighting force capable of winning actual battles, which means replacing their ludicrous rules and regulations with ones that actually work." For a moment, his dark eyes sparked with malice. "And I intend to announce it at the Landsmeet tomorrow – with your permission, wife. I can't tell you how much I'm looking forward to this."

Anora arched an eyebrow. "You'll hear no objections from me, but I can't imagine the First Warden will be pleased."

"If the First Warden complains, I will happily write him a long, detailed reply telling him exactly where he can stick his objections." A faintly contemptuous smile touched his lips. "It's not as if we don't have any leverage over Weisshaupt. The Wardens need Archdemon blood for the Joining, and I imagine their stocks must have run somewhat dry over the last few centuries… except here in Ferelden, of course."

Anora couldn't help laughing. "You see, Aedan? I knew you would take to politics like a duck to water. Just don't provoke them enough that they're tempted to invade, if you please. In all seriousness, we cannot afford to alienate our allies at a time like this."

"I'll do my best." His strong arms squeezed her tightly. "But unless you'd care to sample more of my 'services' tonight – "

"Dear Maker, Aedan, have mercy! Give me a little time, at least."

" – then I think we'd better continue this discussion in the morning." He kissed her again, running his fingers through her hair. "I think we both need to gather our strength for tomorrow – and not just for more bed-sport, unfortunately."

"You may have a point," she admitted. "Good night, then, husband. And… thank you."

"The pleasure was all mine, wife," Aedan said softly, and he sounded like he meant it.


End file.
